Page 58 of Point of Mercy

“That, in a perfect world, you and I would be married.”

Her heart missed a beat and she looked up sharply to find flinty eyes regarding her without a trace of humor. He wasn’t teasing her, but she had the feeling he was testing her. “It’s not a perfect world,” she said, meeting his gaze boldly.

“Growing up with only one parent isn’t easy.”

“Lots of kids do it.”

His nostrils flared. “Not mine.”

“If you’re still trying to talk me into moving back to Gold Creek—”

“I think it’s gone further than that, Heather. We both know it. Neither of us will be satisfied playing part-time parents, now, will we?”

Her throat was as dry as the last leaves of autumn. “What’re you getting at?” she asked, her heart hammering wildly, her fingers nervously working the hem of her vest.

He eyed her long and hard, assessing her as he would a wild mustang he was about to break. “Well, Heather,” he said, his gaze traveling up from the cleft at her breasts to settle on her eyes, “I guess I’m asking you to marry me.”

Chapter Twelve

Heather almost laughed.Except for the dead-serious glint in his eyes, she would’ve thought he was joking. But marriage? She bit her lip. How long had she waited for a proposal from this lonesome cowboy? She would’ve done anything to hear him beg her to marry him six years ago. Now, however, she understood his reasons, the motives for making a commitment he would otherwise have avoided. “You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, as she picked a flower from the dried grass and twirled it between her fingers. “I won’t keep Adam from you.”

His expression tensed. “You mean he can stay with me?” Unleashed anger sparked in his eyes.

“Part of the time, yes. When he’s not in school.” She swallowed back the impulsive urge to throw caution to the wind and tell him she’d gladly become his wife. However, she wouldn’t allow his nobility, if that’s what it was, or his love for his child, to interfere with his happiness.

“All summer long?”

“I—I can’t promise—”

“Every weekend?”

“Well, no, but—”

Turner’s expression turned as thunderous as a summer storm.“But nothing! The only way I’m going to see him as much as I want is for you to live with me.”

“Here?”

“Is it so bad, Heather?” His voice was deeper than usual, and she saw the pride in his eyes when he looked over the acres that he’d sweated and bled for.

Hot tears filled her eyes. “No, Turner, it’s good here. It’s good for you. Maybe even good for Adam. I can feel it. But I don’t know if I can fit in. I’d die if I had to spend my days making jam, or tending garden, or…or cleaning out stalls.” She stared up at the sky, watching as a hawk circled near the mountains. “It’s not a matter of not liking to make jam,” she added. “Or even tending the garden. I… I’d enjoy it, some of the time. Even mucking out the stables. But… I need more. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t paint, if I couldn’t ever sculpt again, if I didn’t have time to sit down with a sketch pad and draw.” If only he could understand. “It’s the same feeling you’d have if you knew you’d never climb on the back of a horse again.”

He tipped back his hat and studied the horizon, his eyes narrowed against the sun. “Can’t you do those things here?”

“I…yes.”

“But you don’t want to.”

Close to tears, she offered him a tender smile. She’d never loved him more in her life, but she didn’t want him to throw away his own lifestyle. His own needs. “This is no time to sacrifice yourself, Turner. You never wanted to marry. You as much as told me so.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Then maybe you’ll change it again,” she said, her throat closing upon itself as she stared into the intensity of his gaze.“And I’d hate to be the woman you were married to when you realized you wanted out.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, Turner—”

“Think about it,” he suggested, bristling. He dusted his hands on his jeans as he stood.

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